


Natural Disaster (Hands To Fuel Desire)

by ratafia



Series: Kinktober 2019 [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Lawyer Draco Malfoy, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Hogwarts, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 12:56:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21016127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratafia/pseuds/ratafia
Summary: Potter is a hazard in a human form but nobody hears Draco complaining (because he doesn't). Especially with so many people around and his boyfriend stuck under the table.





	Natural Disaster (Hands To Fuel Desire)

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the tenth day of Kinktober - On Your Knees.

"I told you not to bother me until the meeting!" 

"Wow, nice to see you too." 

That was not the voice of his assistant.  
No, the man standing in the door with a rueful smile and a paper bag in hand, was none other than Harry Potter. 

"Harry?.. Come in! Sorry... This case is a bloody nightmare." 

"Kinda figured, with you being missing for a week without a letter or a call." 

Was it a whole week already?  
Draco was so busy lately, he barely managed to sleep, occasionally he would eat, the passing of days marked only by the countdown until the court date.  
While he was trying to get his bearings, Harry walked inside, closing the door behind him, and setting the paper bag right under Draco's nose. Which smelled delicious with a mix of cinnamon, fresh dough and coffee. 

"You didn't..." 

"I did. Because I am the perfect boyfriend." 

Draco was so happy to see him (and the food), he kissed that smug grin without getting up from his desk. Simply dragging Potter closer by the lapels of his leather jacket. 

"You have your moments..." 

Harry didn't take the bait, only scoffing and settling on the edge of the desk to be able to actually see Draco.  
Who spared only a couple of moments more to rearrange the papers and free himself a tiny spot to actually start eating.  
Just as he figured by the smell, it was indeed his favourite cinnabons from that bakery in the downtown and a steaming latte, carefully kept at its ideal temperature by a heating charm.  
Better still, while Draco scoffed the food down, Harry talked.  
Just some chatter about the latest quidditch game he’d seen, how Hermione was falling into another black hole of research on some extremely obscure topic, and how the first flowers were blooming outside.  
His voice, his laugh washed over Draco, so soothing and familiar, making his stiff shoulders relax before he knew it. And the tension headache he was nursing from the morning was finally gone. 

It was strange to think about it, how much their lives changed.  
How much they both changed too.  
For one, Potter had discovered a sense of style, after all those years being an eyesore.  
Draco had a lot to do with it, he noticed with satisfaction.  
Like Harry's hair, which in its natural state was more alike to a crow nest, now was not only styled in a modern haircut. It also shined with smooth curls thanks to that elixir Draco found, and it now enjoyed the fruits of his labor. Every time he ran his hands through the black hair that framed a handsome face so beautifully, it warmed him inside. Not just because they were nice to look at, but because Harry kept using something Draco picked for him, and liked it too.  
There were other changes as well.  
Clothes, almost always of muggle design, practical and sturdy. Draco most definitely grumbled about them on more than one occasion, but they both knew it was all a facade. The truth was, that all those fitting jeans and low-cut shirts suited Harry in a sinfully good way, so Draco never really tried to change them to something else. He was ready to suffer all those strange muggle fabrics all day long just for the image of his boyfriend in leather straddling his bike.  
They compromised. A lot.  
It was difficult at times, but they managed.  
Like this beard Harry had been sporting for the last month. 

"You look like a caveman," - Draco said when he first saw it, but only got a shrug in reply. 

But as ridiculous it might have looked, there was an upside to it. One that Draco would never, _ever_ admit.  
It felt _so good_.  
Even now, just looking at the soft scruff that kept getting longer and longer each day, he was remembering how it felt on his skin last time they met. And the subtle burns it left on his thighs, that stayed for the whole day. Reminding Draco of the night before. 

"See something you like?" 

Of course Potter would notice him staring. He always had the best perception at the worst of times. 

"You wish." 

"As it happens, I do wish..." 

The kiss tasted sweeter than a pastry he just ate. Better still, with that bloody scruff tickling his chin and cheeks, and then it was on his neck along with a pair of hungry lips. 

"Mr. Malfoy? Your 2 o'clock is here." 

Everything that happened later was to blame on his tiredness. Draco was working way too hard and couldn't think properly.  
So that was exactly why he shoved Potter under his desk, hissing a loud, - "Hide!"  
Instead of, for example, bidding him goodbye and walking to the door.  
It's not like their relationship was exactly a secret...  
But Draco was striving so hard to be a professional, and moreover, independent, from his family and from his boyfriend too.  
His private life was exactly that, private.  
And just as his office was steadily filling with over a dozen people, he had to fake a cough to cover up the giggles coming from under his table.  
He silenced them with a kick, getting up to shake hands and exchange greetings, and to quickly disappear the remnants of his launch. 

It's wasn't even all that bad.  
Even if Draco was practically sweating bullets for the first half an hour, every second expecting somebody to just look down and see... something. Like a Potter's leg sticking out, but everybody was too busy with the meeting itself.  
It was an important one, with nearly the whole firm working on the case and getting together for one final rehearsal and information exchange.  
So, little by little, Draco relaxed, even though he had to administer another kick later on. This time because there was a pretty loud and absolutely obnoxious bleeping of that infernal muggle device Harry so loved, the smartphone.  
It was almost comfy, though.  
He wasn't sure what Potter was doing, exactly, but his warm side was pressed to Draco's legs the whole time.  
It was comforting.  
More so, when the tension was rising with a heated discussion about that pesky detail everybody was so happy to ignore, but Draco insisted they'd use, and he was ready to scream... But then there was a silent touch of a palm on his calf, rubbing up and down, forcing him to breath, to calm down.  
Sometimes his boyfriend truly was the best. 

Sometimes he was the absolute worst. 

The meeting was well on its way, with them mostly left to hush out final arguments when Potter's patience ran out.  
Draco had been dreading that moment for a while now with the man growing more and more restless by the minute.  
And if another massage was very much welcome, and even the tiny wrestling match with his leg was somewhat adorable, everything had its limits.  
Except Potter, apparently.  
Who was bored and Draco was destined to suffer for it. 

It was just the hands at first.  
Careful, light touches, that Draco welcomed.  
He was really tired, the endless discussions running in circles were putting him to sleep at this point... So he didn't think about it much when those careful hands urged him to spread his legs.  
He figured that Potter was tired of laying down or whatever he was doing before when there was a head laid down on his thigh.  
He choked on the unfortunately timed gulp of water when Potter went straight to his target and rubbed his nose up and down Draco's crotch.  
This was going way too far, and he tried to stop it.  
Potter didn't budge and their scuffle attracted attention. 

"You alright there, Malfoy?" 

"Yes. Just a little sore from all the sitting, as I'm sure you all are too. Gotta ask for a raise for a new chair after this." 

He laughed awkwardly with the rest of his colleges, the subject closed and conversation returning to business.  
Potter did not get the memo. 

The man was insufferable when he got something in his head.  
Draco knew it very well, admired it secretly, poked fun of it often, got madly furious at times at it...  
This was most definitely the third case.  
Draco was doing his absolute best to keep a straight face when he felt his trousers being unbuttoned and hot, wet tongue tracing the length of his cock through the underwear.  
He was mad. Angry. Yes.  
Totally against it all. 

He discreetly lifted his hips, allowing Potter to tug his trousers down further, giving him more room.  
The insufferable prick chuckled, his breath teasing the exposed skin on Draco's belly, making him shiver. 

And then there was that beard again.  
He couldn't resist those maddening tingles.  
He was doomed and he liked it.  
Especially when Potter finally got his underwear down as well. Licking a wide stripe with his bloody tongue all the way up from the base to the tip, the scruffy chin following suit. 

"Fuck, do that again..." 

"Excuse me, what?" 

Hell. He’d said that out loud, hadn’t he? Draco cleared his throat, praying to any deity that would listen that his face didn't look as red as it felt. 

"I said, repeat that again, please. I'm not sure if I heard you correctly." 

There were some doubtful looks, but with a moment of indecision, Calvert, who was speaking, continued. He did indeed repeat himself, droning on and on about something Draco was so not interested in anymore.  
Not when the person he was actually addressing did exactly as he was told for a change.  
This time with clever fingers rubbing at the base of Draco's cock, and the lips not leaving, but parting.  
Enveloping him, sucking him down so slow, it simply had to be to tease him.  
But that was their relationship in a nutshell, wasn't it.  
That back and forth, exchanging insults in the past, and now trying to one up each other in bed. Or out of it.  
Draco really preferred the present state of things, but maybe not right at this moment. 

Because here, locked in a room with a bunch of people, biting his lips to not make a sound, he had to hide behind a randomly selected paper, the words on which he couldn't hope to read.  
Still, he was a weak, weak human being.  
How else could he explain that instead of stopping this insanity, he encouraged it.  
Sliding in his chair lower, so he could thrust in the welcoming heat at least a little bit without attracting attention.  
Gritting his teeth against the heady, forbidden pleasure.  
Yet hugging the man sitting between his legs with his knees, goading him on.  
Potter released his cock, a rushed exhale cooling the wet with saliva and precome skin.  
And then he was sucking on one of Draco's balls, face buried in his crotch, that bloody beard grinding against the sensitive flesh.  
And he knew exactly what it was doing to Draco, didn't he? 

"I apologise, but I think it's time we take a break, everyone! I'm not..." - he swayed forward, so tempted to just flop on the table and succumb to the lips tormenting him, but not with all those people in the room. - "I'm not feeling so good. A migraine. And I think we discussed everything that needed already." 

"You really look somewhat under the weather... Okay, that's it for today." 

"Take care of yourself!" 

"Don't think it'll get you out of the trial, Malfoy!" 

"We should've had a break ages ago! I'm starving!" 

People were talking, collecting their things, and slowly filing out of the room.  
Way too slowly for Draco's liking, since Potter didn't even think to stop or slow down.  
No, he was even more persistent, if anything.  
And by the time they were left alone, and Draco threw the silencing and locking charms on the door, he was almost on the edge.  
Teased for so long with those lips, and tongue, and hands, and that bloody beard.  
And now there were moans coming from under the table.  
Sending glorious vibrations straight through Draco's cock, and he was lost.  
Burying his hands in the black locks, tugging, just as he knew Harry liked, fucking deep into that infernal throat.  
Coming barely a minute later, because all of this was too much, too good.  
And wrong. 

"You. Are. A madman..." - he panted, slumped in the chair, dizzy and sleepy after such an intense experience. 

"Didn't hear you complaining, mister "Fuck, do that again"," - Potter's mocking voice was totally ruined, a rasping gruff, but so smugly content Draco didn't find it in himself to worry. 

With a jab already on the tip of his tongue, Draco glared down, words getting stuck halfway out.  
Potter.  
That bloody Potter.  
So ridiculously handsome, a flush on his dark cheeks, black locks in a total disarray, lips swollen and wet, a stray white drop on his beard... And deep green eyes, glimmering with a mischievous fire, just daring him to say something.  
He has no right to look so perfect, on his knees before Draco, yet confident, radiating power and challenge. 

"Well... Since you're here already, and I threw everyone out..." 

"Yes?.." - the lazy grin, the tilt of his head. Potter was somehow getting even more seductive, even when he had seemingly no way to do so. 

No limits for that man indeed. 

"Want to test out the table's durability? It's new."


End file.
